Promise Me You'll Tell Him
by impvme
Summary: John Delivers Joss' final message to Taylor.
1. Chapter 1

Because I didn't get a beta this is unbetaed so please forgive my mistakes. Please read and most definitely review :-). The muse is giving me a hard time with this one so your review will undoubtedly help with the writing. Thanks!

As usual I don't own anything that has to do with Person of interest except my disappointment over Carter's death which said disappointment has been added to by Scareface's unfortunate sacrifice. Joss and Anthony now have something else in common. They both gave their all for the ones they loved most.

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><p>John woke to the incessant tick, tick, tick of the small silver and black clock on his bedside night table. Though he knew it really didn't, the sound from the clock seemed to get louder and louder every day, especially at night. Each tick of the second hand was a continual reminder of time he will spend wading through each second, minute, hourdayweek…. At this point he can just barely think about what will happen <em>today<em>. In his mind John knows that time will continue to flow over, around and through him as it has for what's it been now, about 2 months. He won't think, no- can't think, about the future. How do you think about something that you know no longer exists for you?

Most nights he lays awake at war in a pitched battle with sleep. On nights when Morpheus has refused John any place, the promise of the coming day's sameness is dulled by sleep deprivation. On those nights the shapes, nooks, crannies and the 115 cracks in the lofts ceiling have become his midnight rorshacs test. The ones in the northeast corner are a sniper behind cover, southwest an exploding grenade, and the one in the center of the ceiling a spreading blood stain on a dirty street corner. But as usual his eye is drawn to the shape in the southern part of the ceiling about 3 feet from the large floor to ceiling bank of windows. Most times, day or night, that spot holds his attention when he's at home. And some nights, when the moon is softly beaming through that towering expanse of glass, that crack limned shape seems to glow a gentle gold like the NYPD detective badge it resembles.

John considers what his midnight Rorschach test would suggest to a psychiatrist. If Finch had a medical plan with a psychiatrist on it John's sure that they would recommend therapy for him. Couple that with his jihad against Simmons while bleeding out and his instance of going it alone during his recuperation made John certain he would probably be committed by that same psychiatrist with orders of deep, intensive, long term, drug added therapy. But that's not something he would ever really have to worry about since he'd never speak to a psychiatrist even if under the threat of death. The thought of Finch having a medical plan for what they do brought a mirthless smile to John's face. He scoffs at the picture that pops in his mind of Finch stubbornly trying to make John see a psychiatrist. Harold Finch, he could be almost as stubborn as him.

John's mind goes back to the day he left the library the second time after being shot on that dreadful November night. After Finch received the call from Elias that lead him to find John all but bled out again from Simmons's inflicted gunshot wounds, Finch had adamantly and, what for him was very vocally, announced that John would be staying at the library with him until John had recovered. Then John had no choice but to stay since he really couldn't take care of himself. But as soon as he could stand, John had sought to leave the library. He could not stay there with the machine just feet away. The machine which could seem to help everyone except the most important one had truly shown John it could not be trusted. He couldn't stand to be so close to the answer to why not her and not be able to get the answer, or beat the answer out of it, or fix any of it.

So he had to go. It would have been comical watching the bird of a man trying to stop the monster if it hadn't been so sad. Even as stubborn as Finch could be, when he stepped in front of John and grabbed his arm to prevent him from leaving and then saw the look in John's eye's, Finch knew that the irresistible force had met the immovable object. Finch dropped his hand and John quietly moved around him and went home to his loft to recuperate in abject misery alone.

Home. Where was that? John thought that he had finally got a handle on that concept, that idea, in the last few months or so. With joining the military, he had all but given up on calling one place home for most of his life especially after Jessica had died. After he had met Jessica the notion that there was a chance that he could stop moving and plan a real future had started scratching at the door of his mind. And just as he had started to open the door to see what home might look like, 9/11 happened, he re-upped, Jessica moved on without him, he missed his second chance with her and then she died. The door was resoundingly shut on the plaintive cries from the idea of settling down, of home. So John fled as far from "home" as being a special operative with the CIA could take him, never to return again. Or so he thought.

Then one night he got into a fight with some punks on a subway, a cop detained him and they bought him to an extraordinary NYPD detective who changed his mind about so many things, because she changed _him_. The changes had begun so subtly that one day he was surprised to hear that scritch, scritch of home again on the backdoor of his mind and heart all because of her, detective Joselyn Carter. Though she had started out as an enemy she had become so much more. It still amazed and confounded him the path; the orbit that he and Jocelyn had found themselves in. Unbelievably he had been blessed to find someone that once again connected him to the world in Jocelyn Carter. From enemy to asset, to partners, to friends, to whatever this is. She became the center of his universe and he was inexorably locked in her orbit. She had made him a better person. He had started to see snips of his old self, of the real man he had been before the CIA, and of the new man, the good man she saw in him. And he so wanted to be that good man he saw shining from her eyes when she looked at him; well, when he wasn't pissing her off. A small smile tugs at the corners of John's mouth at the thought of how many times he had pissed her off.

Even though throughout most of their relationship they were having a hard time defining as Joss had said "whatever this is" between them, John Knew that "whatever this is" had become the most important relationship in his life. That's when he heard the knock on the door to his heart again and day by day it got louder and louder. But he wasn't brave enough to open it and look out. He knew though that when he did look, that notion of home would be wearing the face, body, heart and soul of Jocelyn Carter.

Finch had changed him too. The night he meet Finch, he had given John a chance at a new purpose and reason to remain in the here and now. After the CIA had so badly corrupted the purpose he swore to defend with his life, John had to run from them to not only preserve his life but his soul as well. He had shredded his past life and melted into the world of people that are no longer seen. He blended into the world of homelessness, the disenfranchised, ignored and unseen denizens of New York City. He had disappeared and become a no-body. After all that's what he had been with the CIA, a non-person.

He was a trained killer, a monster with lies and deception as a driving force in his life but not a real person any longer. His name wasn't even real. His then partner, fellow CIA assassin Kara Stanton, had snatched it out of the air and pinned it on him. It belonged to nobody. It belonged to him. So he became what he knew he was, a dead man walking, and lived as such on the streets of New York City for a couple of years. Then Finch found him and gave him a purpose and a job that he truly loved. A job that made him happy, that might help make up for all of the wrong he'd done in his past, that gave him people he now loved and called friends, a new sense of friendship and home. Until…

For the last two months along with the insomnia at night, John sometimes cried. He no longer even notices the tears as they leak from the corners of his eyes and burn hot tracks down his face or lodge in the salt and pepper hair at his temples. He's tried not to think about her, about Joss, too much. During the day, when he's wandering about the city, he could derail thoughts of Joss by getting caught up in the small melodramas he saw played out in front of him as he observed the city's inhabitants. He hadn't asked Finch anything about the numbers and Finch insisted anyway that he would not even consider giving him any numbers until Dr. Tillman give John the ok to return to work. The immobility and nothing to do made him restless and broody. So he first started walking to build strength and to just leave the loft. Also to see Bear. It still surprised him how much he missed the dog. Also when Bear looked at him he did not see the concern and feel the waves of grief coming off him like everyone else he encountered. He couldn't possibly help anyone else grieve when he didn't know how to deal with his own grief.

Bear loved it when John started including him in his walks because he got to see John and going new places with all of the great new smells always put a doggie smile on his face. Then John walked to burn off the nervous energy. Finally it became a way to avoid what he didn't and couldn't face. So now he walks the city. Walks when he can't sleep. Walks when frequently he can't or doesn't want to eat. Walks when he doesn't want to talk to Finch, Fusco, Shaw or Zoe, which is most of the time. Walks when he can't think which now seems to be all the time. He walks sometimes 18 or more hours a day or until he can't walk any longer, until exhaustion drags him to the loft where he finally passes out and sleep, undisturbed by dreams of Joss and nightmares of her death in his arms, mercifully claims him.

John was now back to about 85% of his normal health but gaining back that last 15% was being severely hindered by the insomnia and lack of nutrition. He knows he can't continue on like this, not eating, not sleeping. He has to make a decision. The ticking of the clock is like point and counter point to what's running through his mind- stay, go, stay, go, stay, go. He wants to run, screaming from this city. Every where he looks he sees Joss, every corner he turns he expects to see her flash her badge and ask him, with that cute frown on her face, what's he doing there. With every shuddering breath he breaths her in and every night tries to flush out the grief of her loss with his tears. He loves Finch and what had been their purpose but its time.

Time. It seemed to stretch to infinity. He had so much of it yet so little to spend with those he loved. If he could just redeem what he had lost. He'd let Finch and even Fusco know what they meant, mean in his life. He's pretty sure that Finch knows how grateful he is for what he's done for him. Not so sure that if he told Fusco how he appreciates all the times he's had his back that Fusco would believe him. A small chuckle escapes John as he wonders what new names Fusco would invent if he told him how he felt about all of them. Even though he has told Finch that he appreciated what he's done, the purpose he's given him to his life again, it never seemed adequate. Somehow the words, thank you, didn't seem like enough, not quite right.

Like "Please wait for me", wasn't quite right so he didn't say them to Jessie when she asked him to say those words to her and she would wait for him to come back to her. No the words were right, the time was wrong. At least that's what he had convinced himself of. Jessica was right on both counts when she angrily flung at him, "You thought that you would die over there and hurt me. I think it was just easier for you to be alone, John." There was very little that he was afraid of. But having the people he loved and cared for hurt because of him terrified him. So John figured that if there was no one to care about or for him he could focus on his work and be all the better for it. So he had let her go that day there in the airport. He had loved Jessica, he was afraid of hurting her and he had been a coward. That fear and cowardice made him let Jessica walk out of his life and into the arms of Peter Arndt, into the arms of her death.

Nobody thought he was a coward. Only John knew that secret and the truth of it. After all, with his job it was SOP that he put his life on the line with every number he and Finch tried to help. But unfortunately he wasted too much time before he realized another secret. He had fallen in love with Joss Carter. When he realized what Joss was trying to do with HR and she wouldn't let him help her, the fear of her getting hurt, him not being there to help her and losing her, returned. The level of fear at not being there to help her and keep here safe had retched up so high that when he charged into her house, gun in hand, and found her missing he wasn't sure what to do. Standing in her bedroom and feeling lost she surprised him by calling him and letting him know she knew he was in her home, in her bedroom.

"I hear you've been looking for me", Joss said with a smirk.

But John was wound so tight that he brushed over the joke. He tried to reason with her and it took all of his training to keep the fear and desperation out of his voice when he pled with her, "Please let me help you, I need to help you."

She stopped his pleas by asking him for the same thing he had asked her for recently. "You once asked me to trust you John, to do what had to be done. Now I'm asking you for the same thing. Trust _me_."

What could he do but wait for the call she then promised him she would give if she needed him. But he needed to be with her. John's number had come up and he had to let Joss know how he felt before his time ran out. He determined then that he would find the time ASAP to let her know what had been hidden in his heart these last few months. Joss wasn't Jessica and he wasn't going to make that mistake same mistake of not letting her know how much she meant to him. When she did call John was ready to give her anything, any backup that she needed. The relief at knowing that he would be there by her side to help and protect Joss coursed through him and removed the fear and desperation. John Reese the trained assassin was back and ready to do or give anything to protect the women he loved including his life. But she gave hers instead; for him.

The clock seemed to be ridiculously loud and is taunting him with one of its usual refrains – she's, gone, she's, gone, she's, gone. So the cracking and tinkling sound it makes when it hits the wall and the little pieces go careening across the floor gives John a small measure of satisfaction.

"That's the third clock this month", John muses as a small wry grin fleetingly crosses his face. "So maybe the problem's not the clock after all."

Its 6:30 a.m. and a just barely pink sliver of light is sliding through the loft windows. He'll go to the library and retrieve Bear for company today. He heaves a deep bone weary sigh and gets up to face the next day once again sleep deprived and on automatic pilot dreading what the day will bring. Today's the day he'll tell Harold he can't stay.


	2. Chapter 2

As usual I don't own anything that has to do with Person of interest except my disappointment over Carter's death which said disappointment has been added to by Scareface's unfortunate sacrifice.

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><p>He could hear his dad moving around in the kitchen and shortly after the scent of bacon, eggs and toast slipped down the hall and into the guest room. No it was no longer the guest room. As of about 2 months ago it had become <em>his<em> room permanently. His room, his hall, his home…..home. Taylor wasn't too sure what that really meant these days. Living with his dad was turning out to be ok. He loved his dad and they had started building a good relationship about a year ago when his dad had suddenly reappeared in his and his Mom's life. Getting to know each other had been full of fits and starts but the bumps had started to smooth out. They were working through things and he was getting to know him as his Dad and as a person. That this was now his _only _home was not a good thing. Not because he was living with his dad full time now but the reason why he now had to live with his dad was unreal. Packing up the previous home he had shared with his mom for most of his life and coming to live with his dad for good had been the second hardest thing he had ever done.

Like his mom, his dad was also a vet. Taylor had asked his mom what it was like being a soldier and being in the war but she didn't talk about it unless he asked and even then she would tell him as little as possible. She said she saw and experienced some very bad and sad things but that was about the extent of their discussions. He had often seen her Purple Heart medal and knew what it stood for; that she had been injured in the war. He even asked her once to show him the scar, she wouldn't. He knew it was because she didn't think he was ready to see how badly his mom had been hurt and when he was a little kid she was right, he wasn't ready. But as he got older and she still wouldn't talk with him about her experience, Taylor knew then that it was because _she_ wasn't ready to share that horrible part of her life with him…her baby boy. The last time he'd asked he wasn't a baby anymore and had expected her to be as honest with him about this as she was about most everything else he needed to discuss with her. But she brushed it off saying it was in the past, she'd dealt with it he didn't need to worry about it 'cause she was fine.

I'm fine baby, I'm ok, I'll be alright Tay, and don't worry about me honey. Her stock answers for Taylor whenever he let her know he was worried about his mom. Sometimes he really hated it when she did her supermom slash super cop thing. She was a great mom and an awesome detective but he could see the frustration, aggravation and lately fear and uncertainty weighing heavy in her eyes and effecting her with many sleepless nights. So Taylor did what he could to help remove some of the weight from her shoulders. He was spending a lot more time at his dad's but when he was home he made sure that as soon as he got home from school he would complete all of his homework. He didn't leave a mess in the kitchen or living room and even occasionally would have dinner ready for her when she got home. His mom didn't know but he'd wake sometimes in the middle of the night when he'd hear her get up and start roaming around the house cleaning, because she couldn't sleep again. The thought of his mom sneaking around on tiptoe so as not to wake him while trying to clean the house made a small chuckle bubble out of him.

She hadn't known that Taylor would wake up frequently in the middle of the night whenever she did. Or about the other times either; when he'd wake to her muffled cries of names he couldn't quite make out and then her quiet footsteps would tiptoe into his room to check on him. She didn't know about those nights he heard his mom crying quietly in the living room because she didn't think he could hear her. The first time Taylor had heard his mom cry he was still a little boy. It was a couple of days after the night she had made Dad leave and told him to not come back until he got help. Dad had stormed in the house demanding to see him. Taylor remembers smelling, what he later found out was alcohol, on Dad's breath. About 20 minutes later his mom had rushed through the front door and had him go upstairs with the baby sitter. His dad had scared him and frightened him badly that night and when his Dad reappeared in his life just about a year ago that fear was still there. That fight between his parents had scared him that night, but not as much as hearing his mom cry a few nights later did. Taylor remembered thinking that even though he saw no cuts or scrapes, his mom must be hurt bad because Mom never cried.

The last time he had laughed was the day before his mom was killed. He was at his dad's house and they were playing some video game. Dad wasn't too bad but Taylor was soundly beating him and laughing at how bad his Dad was at the game they were playing. Mr. BA was very good at MPSG's just like Taylor thought he would be after seeing him in action when he rescued Taylor from that gangster. Taylor liked John. He got to call him by his first name which was unusual. But mom wouldn't tell Taylor John's last name either so he couldn't call him Mr. whatever. Shortly after John had rescued him his curiosity had gotten the best of him and one day, before he barely let his mom get in the door, he started firing endless questions at her about John.

"OK, Mom we need to talk about Mr. Badass. Where'd you meet him? What's his real name? Is he a cop too? How come I never met him before? Can I invite him over for dinner?" The questions tumbled out of Taylor's mouth practically tripping over one another before the next one tried to pop out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there!" Joss shot at Taylor with her hands up in front of her. "Hello to you too, son. So glad to see you mom and how was your day?" Joss stated as she gave him the 'don't be so rude, and slow the heck down' look.

While she was taking off her coat and depositing her things on the table by the door, by way of an apology Taylor ducked his head twice, and walked over to his mom and gave her a tight squeeze and a peck on the cheek. Just as he took a deep breath to start the questions again his mom put her hands on is arm and lead him to the couch where they sat while his mom held both his hands in hers.

"Taylor I know that you have a lot of questions about him, John. And Yes I think it's time we talked too. So to answer _some_ of your questions, I met him through work, no, he is not a police officer, yes, he does help me from time to time and his name is not Badass. He's an adult and I don't want you addressing him that way. His name is John."

Taylor lets out a small scoff of exasperation. "I know his first name is John mom but what's his last name. And I know his boss is Mr. Finch; he's a pretty cool dude too. We did talk some that, that night." he says as he drops his eyes from his mom's and looks at his hands wrapped in hers.

He didn't mean to stutter but sometimes the effects of his being taken would show up out of nowhere and just slam into him. He tried not to let his mom see that but, he wasn't always fast enough to hide it. He knew she had noticed a couple of times when things were off, just like she noticed the stutter now. He was sure she knew why he'd stuttered because she squeezed his hands gently. His mom caught her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it a bit before answering his question. Taylor could see his mom make the decision not to tell him John's full name before she gave him the answer to the question.

"For now baby, you can just call him John, ok."

So John it was. They sat on the couch and talked about John, Mr. Finch John's boss, the guy with the scare on his face that had kidnapped him and why Taylor had been dragged into her work. After about an hour or so his mom had finally gotten tired of the interrogation, her words, and finally put an end to the questions by telling Taylor he could invite John over for dinner so he could get some of his answers straight from the horse's mouth. Then she said the conversation was over by way of dismissing him to finish his school work.

"Mom", Taylor called over his shoulder on his way to his room. "It feels weird to call him John so can I call him Mr. BA? He kinda reminds me of that character on that old TV show you liked, ummmm Team…, Team…"

His mom laughed as the name of the show sprang from her lips. "You mean the A Team?"

She gave a serious belly laugh that made Taylor smile as he watched his mom. But then her laughter sputtered off when she said with a smirk. "No wait. He is kinda like B.A. Baracus. Ok, Mr. BA is good." she said starting to chuckle to herself quietly. On her way to the kitchen he thought he heard his mom say that John certainly belonged on the A list of… but the last of her remark was lost as she walked out of the room. He could tell his mom liked John too.

She hadn't raised a nosy or impolite child but Taylor had inherited his mom's curiosity, intelligence, stubbornness and dogged determination. So he noticed how she would talk to Mr. BA when he called. Even though Taylor only heard one side of the conversation he knew when she was talking to John. He finally figured out that John used to call every now and then but after his mom had sent John to rescue him, Taylor knew that it was John who called her every night. Some times when she said it was just work or when she would just scowl at her phone and not answer it he knew it was John calling. When she answered sometimes her tone would be soft and tired but a little lighter at the end of John's calls. Usually when he overheard their conversations most of the time she seemed to be mad or exasperated with John and fussed at him until she hung up. Taylor knew then that his mom was using her,"have you lost your ever loving mind" scowl on John even though John couldn't see it through the phone. He also realized that a lot of the times when she would get a phone call late at night or on the weekends, say it was work and then rush out of the house, it was really John calling.

John was the only person that Taylor knew of that could make his mom so angry, concerned and happy to talk to all within the same conversation. He was also the only person that he knew of besides Mr. Fusco that his mom would fly out of the house to go help if he called and needed her. If he saw her before she charged out of the house she would have this look on her face that was a cross between worry, determination, concern and fear and Taylor knew it was all because of and for John. He had found out about John and his mom's unusual relationship by accident.

He was spending the night at his friend Steve's house and they were working on their English project that was due in two days. Taylor thought he had brought the thumb drive that had his part of the project information on it with him but had left it at home. His laptop was at home too but he remembered he hadn't shut it down because he was running late for Steve's. Since it was a simple thing and his laptop was set up for remote log in, he was going to access his computer from Steve's house and transfer the info to Steve's computer.

Taylor knew that his Mom should be home right about then so when he remotely logged in to his computer he turned on the mike and camera to see what she was up to. Really he just wanted to see how she was, if she was alright. He hadn't seen her since this morning. Even though she always told him she was ok and not to worry about her, how could he _not_ worry about her. Her job was dangerous at times and he now knew firsthand how easy it was for the danger to follow her and reach out touch them anywhere. When the camera turned on he saw that the house was dark. The mic however was picking up sounds of someone moving around in the house. Through the back lens on the laptop Taylor could just make out the image of someone, a man, by the doors to the balcony. Taylor's mouth went dry and he started to tremble when he realized someone had broken into their home and was probably waiting to hurt his mom.

Just as he got his phone out of his pocket to call Det. Fusco he heard the front door open and knew it was his mom entering their home. He heard her call his name a couple of times before she noticed there was someone in the apartment. Taylor was half way between standing and pulling his phone from his pocket but became frozen to the spot as he heard the man tell his mom that Taylor wasn't there, he was at a friend's house studying. That this man knew Taylor's schedule made a new fear spring to life in his heart. His mom must have turned the lights on then because he could now see that she had her service weapon out and pointed at the man. But just as quickly as she had drawn it she lowered it and started talking to the man. Taylor was so frightened for his mom that it took him a couple of seconds longer than his mom to recognize the man in his home.

When he saw who it was he sat back down hard in the chair he hadn't quite finished getting out of. With a small groan Taylor let out a shaky breath he didn't even know he had been holding. He couldn't get his phone back in his pocket because his hands were shaking so badly so he dropped it on the desk where he was sitting. He almost screamed then from the tension and fear when he realized he had thought he was going to see his mother be hurt or even killed right in front of him and he was powerless to stop it. But it was Mr. BA and mom was using that exasperated tone on him and saying something about John coming over and making his self at home. John was speaking low so Taylor was having a hard time understanding him.

All sorts of thoughts started running through Taylor's head. How did John get in their house? Did mom give him a key? If mom gave John a key he must be very important to her and she must trust him, a lot! Why didn't she tell him she had given John a key? John was still talking to Taylor's mom when he heard her say

"Who's gone, John?" Her tone had changed and she was no longer ticked off at John. Her voice said she was concerned and what he could still see of her face did too.

John turned to look at his mom and he could see the stress on his face when he said "Finch. She took him."

Taylor's hand flew to cover his mouth. Mr. Finch had been kidnapped! Memories of his kidnapping crashed into Taylor. His heart started pounding again and the shakes returned to his body. His breathing was rapid, shallow and trembling. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on his face and was glistening on his forehead and upper lip. It was happening all over again.

He could feel the hand on his arm of that horrible man with the scared face that grabbed him and threw him into the backseat of the SUV. The sound was in his ear again of the gun as it fired and killed the security guard, Mr. Fretias, who was trying to help Taylor. The screeching tires of the big black car that came to a halt down the street from the SUV and then the man with anger written on his face jumped out of it with guns blazing. Hope griped Taylor as he saw the man from the car take down one of his kidnappers.

Then fear replaced hope when the man from the car took a bullet to his shoulder. But he didn't go down. He seemed to be coming at them in slow motion as he continued firing at scar face when the kidnapper ran around the SUV and got in on the opposite side of the backseat. The biting acrid smell of the gun powder was back in his nostrils as if it was happening now. The look on the man's face from the car as the kidnappers sped away with Taylor is burned in his memory forever. That man's face, John's face. Seeing John's angry face during the kidnapping but hearing his voice in the present brought Taylor back to the here and now.

Taylor focused on John's voice and the conversation with his mom. His heartbeat and breathing were returning to normal. As he swipes a minutely trembling hand across his face he is shocked to feel it come away wet with sweat. Even though the flashback seemed to last for forever it was only a few seconds long. As he's calming down and coming back to the present Taylor realizes he had missed some of their conversation. His mom was now offering to help John find Mr. Finch.

"Ok. I can file missing persons; send Finch's pictures to sheriffs' offices and the FBI…" Taylor's mom is telling John when john interrupts her.

"You can't. Finch went off grid for a reason. We have to find him on our own."

Off grid? Like criminals or someone trying to hide from the law!? Mr. Finch and John could not be criminals because Taylor knew, _knew_ that his mom would never work with criminals. Work to catch them, yes. Work with them, when pigs fly. Fear gripped Taylor's chest again as he heard John say that Finch's kidnapper had already killed someone. So many scene's of Mr. Finch being hurt started to play through his mind that he lost track of John and his mom's conversation. The solid sound of the door hitting the jamb in his house as it closed behind John when he left brought Taylor's attention back to his computer screen to watch his mom as she worried her bottom lip and thought about what was happening to Mr. Finch and how she could help John find him.


End file.
